


Like Father, Like Son

by SeeEmRunning



Series: Abused [3]
Category: Criminal Minds, Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Schmoop, very little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 07:50:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeEmRunning/pseuds/SeeEmRunning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a bit of schmoop amongst the angst. Sam's foul-mouthed fiancee gives birth. Non-graphic, you'll be pleased to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Father, Like Son

**Author's Note:**

> Having neither given birth nor been close to a pregnant woman, I can't tell you if her behavior is at all believable. I can say, however, that sometimes water DOES break before contractions! Also, language and some of my favorite vulgarities are in here.
> 
> Takes place a little over a year after the last story.
> 
> (Okay, so AO3 needs a way to make tags specifically for series and specifically for stories, because now 'fluff' and 'very little plot' are in the series tags. This is neither fluffy nor light on plot.)

"Do you mind picking up milk on your way home?" Theresa asked.

"Of course," Sam answered, smiling. He stood to put his plate in the sink and kissed the top of her head. "Ice cream and pickles?"

"Oh, stop, you," she ordered laughingly, smacking his arm. "I haven't gotten _that_ craving."

"Yet," he retorted with a smirk.

She huffed and twirled a lock of black hair around her fingers. "You shouldn't mock me when I'm this close to exploding."

"Oh, honey," Sam said with fake sympathy, "if you explode I'll just mock you for staining the drapes."

"You suck."

"You like it."

"Can't argue with that." Her blue eyes lingered obviously on his crotch.

He groaned. "Woman, you're going to make me late."

"You have a pregnant fiancée," she reminded him. "I think the Bureau will understand."

"Yeah." He leaned down and tilted her head so he could kiss her slow and deep. "I love you."

"I love you too, babe," she said. "Now, get to work."

"You are a cruel tease."

"You like it."

"Don't quote me to me," he said indignantly. "Remember-"

"Yes, yes, I know, call you when my water breaks. You've told me the same thing every day for the past two weeks."

"I just don't want to miss it," he said sheepishly.

"I know. Now get a move on." She slapped his ass to accentuate her words.

"Don't start what you can't finish, dear," he said. "I'll be back as soon as possible."

"And _then_ we'll finish what I start- oh shit." She moved a hand to her belly.

"Theresa?"

"I think my water just broke." Her face split into a huge grin.

"Should that be happening? I mean, are you having contractions yet?" Sam asked anxiously.

"It happens before contractions sometimes."

"Shit. _Shit._ Hospital?"

"You bet your ass we're going to the hospital, no way in Hell am I doing this without an epidural!"

"Come on, then, let's get to the car." Sam didn't wait for an answer, just grabbed her and picked her up.

"I can walk," she said, laughing.

"But you don't have to," he answered. "You're on bed rest, remember?"

He settled her in the car and skidded around to the other side. He was driving before he even had his seatbelt on.

Sam flipped his phone open. "Who are you calling?" Theresa asked.

"Hospital, let them know we're coming. Then I'm calling work."

"Oka- oh!"

"Theresa?"

"Contractions started."

Sam winced and urged their car faster. "Hi, my name's Sam Winchester, I'm just calling to let you know I'm bringing in a woman in labor."

"How far along is she?"

"Thirty-seven weeks, her water broke and she's started having contractions."

"We'll have someone waiting."

"Thanks."

Sam hung up and dialed a different number. "Hey, it's Sam."

"What's up?" his boss asked.

"Theresa's in labor."

"So you're not coming in?"

"Not today. Tomorrow, may-"

"Ah!"

"Theresa?!"

"I'm okay," she panted.

"I'll let you go. Congrats to both of you."

"Thanks, Winters." He closed his phone and tossed it onto the dashboard. "How you doing?"

"Still in early labor, I think." She flashed him a smile. "It's finally happening."

"Yeah," he breathed, excitement and sudden terror competing for his attention. All the classes in the world couldn't have prepared him for the moment where it hit him that he'd be a dad by the end of the day.

He reached over and took Theresa's hand. "I really fucking love you, you know that?"

"You're gonna have to watch your mouth in a few hours," she said. She was already sweating.

"That's still a few hours away."

"Dog."

"And proud of it," he answered promptly.

She laughed and squeezed his hand. "I love you too. Now distract me with some of the stories you like so much. The mural we painted in the babies' room, tell me that one."

When they'd found out she was pregnant, they decided they didn't want to know the babies' sexes. They painted three walls of the nursery a sunny yellow and Sam drew a story along the walls, starting right next to the door, about a set of twins defeating an evil witch and restoring order to the land. One wall was a dark blue with neon colors depicting the fight. They'd joked, while they were painting, that their kids would grow up to be serial killers.

He was halfway through when they pulled up to the hospital. He carried her in - sometimes, being a foot taller than his girlfriend was helpful - and they were in a birthing suite within ten minutes.

"Keep talking, Sam, please," Theresa begged, gripping his hand tightly as she rode out the contractions.

"Okay - uh - what do you want me to say?" he asked, mind going blank.

"God, just - ah! - a story, maybe, just _talk._ "

"Okay, okay, you're doing good, honey, you're doing good. Um, where was I? They'd just found out who was casting the spell…" Sam kept rambling on, painting with his words, letting Theresa squeeze his hand so hard he felt the bones creak.

"It's crowning," the doctor called.

"Hear that, baby? You're doing good," Sam murmured, smoothing her hair back. "You're doing good."

"It's _well_ , you uncultured swine," she panted.

"You know I don't do good at English, babe," he teased.

"I'm not sure if I hate you or your father more."

That barb actually stung. His hand faltered. A nurse glanced at him and whispered, "She doesn't mean it."

"I know," he answered softly, resuming his motions. "Come on, Theresa, not long now."

"There's another one after this, asshole," she gasped.

"Least you've got the good painkillers," he said, determinedly cheerful.

"Shut up, jackoff."

"You swear so pretty."

"You like it."

"If I didn't would I be here?"

"Suck a load out a gangbanged twink's ass, dickfister."

The nurse turned a laugh into a cough. Sam grinned. "You first."

"You're the twink."

"You're fantastic on painkillers."

"Don’t fucking forget - ah!"

A baby's wail filled the room. "It's a girl," the doc announced.

"Hear that, baby? It's a girl."

"Khada," she gasped.

"Yeah, honey. Deanna Khada."

"Khada Deanna."

"Khada Deanna," he agreed easily. Name order didn't really matter to him; he just wanted to honor the brother who'd died carrying him from a burning building.

"Second one's coming."

"Wonder what this one is," Theresa gasped. "Oh-"

"Push, Theresa. We have names no matter what, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," she gasped. "Stop treating me like I'm five, you fucker."

Sam was hit with another reminder that he didn't have any of the markers she did for a childhood. At five he'd been beaten bloody if he forgot something. She, apparently, had just gotten a reminder.

"Wouldn't...dream...of it?" he hazarded.

"Ah! Talk," she begged him.

"Okay. Okay. Well, they're taking Khada to be cleaned now. She'll be back before you know it."

"Crowning."

"Hear that, Theresa? Next one's almost out. You're almost done."

"Oh, good."

"Yeah. Think they're gonna like the mural?"

"They're gonna love - oh!"

"Push, Theresa, come on," the doctor said.

"Come on, honey," Sam urged. "You're almost there."

Six minutes after Khada Deanna came into the world, her brother was born. A quick conversation and they agreed to change the names around. Michael Dean was named and Khada's middle name became Gabrielle. The birth certificates were filled out by a helpful nurse who didn't mind Theresa correcting her spelling of the names.

Theresa dropped off the sleep, exhausted by birth and the drugs, so Sam was the only one awake when the nurses came in with Khada and Michael. With a little bit of juggling, he got one of them in each arm.

It hit him then, really hit him, that he was a dad. He was responsible for however fucked-up the kids got. He was responsible for not screwing them up the way his dad had screwed him up. He was responsible for making sure they didn't end up in an asylum at the age of ten like he had.

He was _terrified._ Sure, he knew what not to do - and a lot of them, like leaving them alone in motel rooms for days on end, would probably never come up - and he'd taken parenting classes. Theresa had come with him, when she saw how absolutely petrified he was of screwing up their kids, but she'd spent half her time making fun of them. Sam didn't know what to do with kids.

But looking down at their squashy faces, he wanted to learn.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so like I said, kind of plotless, kind of schmoop, little bit of angst thrown in at the end. This mainly sets up the rest of the storyline. Let me know what you think in the comments?
> 
> "Suck a load out of a gangbanged twink's ass, dickfister" continues to be my absolute favorite string of profanities ever.
> 
> (If you like the delusional!John plotline, this is the last story that can be read in that light. Just FYI.)


End file.
